Red
by kittykat2892
Summary: The heir to the Hawke line has to be strong in a city gone to hell. Yet as the years go by, and through the numerous adventures, something begins to tether. Set of drabbles surrounding insane Hawke. Multiple pairings/Multiple Hawke's.
1. The Last Straw Part 1

_A/N: So while on the DA kink!meme, I ran across a prompt that suggested a Hawke that was... not all there (simply put, a bit psycho) due to a past experience involving Bethany. This isn't that prompt, but it drove home a thought that I had a few weeks ago, and I sort of want to try to write it. The basis of the Hawke is the default F!Mage Hawke, who focuses in healing and primal magic._

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the following characters, locations, etc etc. Bioware owns those. I own the ideas of the plot.

Synopsis: Marian Hawke is strong. She has to be, raised as an apostate mage, losing almost everything she dearly loves. Yet as the years go by, something starts to tether, until the culmination of Kirkwall's worries finally causes her to snap. Crazy!F!Hawke

_A/N2: The pairing I picture is Fenris, simply because I love the drama that being a mage in a relationship with that elf fuels. If there's enough interest, I could make this a set of drabbles with Hawke's reactions to certain situations, but I went ahead and did the MAIN situation which is __**SPOILER-IFIC**__ Anders blowing up the Chantry __**END SPOILER-IFIC.**_

_**The Last Straw**_

Hawke stared, mouth agape, as the Chantry exploded into a blaze of red light and a tsunami of rubble. What had just happened? It seemed like an entirely normal day, one where mage and templar were at each other's throats, one where she'd been called upon to be the mediator as usual. She'd been glad to give her services, if they had only just _listened to her!_

And now here she was, staring at the ruins of the chantry, bits of flaming rubble and body parts falling around them. What had seriously just happened?

"There can be no peace."

She turned to the male apostate of their rag-tag group, staring at him almost uncomprehendingly. "Anders... W-What did you...?"

He stared at her, melancholy but resolute. "While the Chantry was here, there was always the perverse notion that there could be neutral ground. Now, I'm forcing everyone to choose a side. Otherwise, there can be no peace."

"The Chantry... Elthina... Maker, no!"

"Blondie, how the hell could you do something like this?"

"I knew the abomination was no ally!"

"Anders, this is worse than blood magic!"

The cries and anger of her friends swam around in her ears, beginning to run together into a mess of incoherent nonsense. The Chantry destroyed, Meredith attacking, mages in trouble, swords drawn, red sky, red ground, red rain, red swords, red, red, _red!_

Hawke began laughing. At first it was just a quiet chuckle here and there, before she looked around. Her eyes brightened with an inner madness and she held her hands to her face as she threw her head back and began laughing in earnest, silencing all in her vicinity with an effiecency not many had.

Carver blanched, his fears for his sister finally being realized. It seemed she'd finally gone off the deep end, if her cracked laughter was anything to go by. Everyone was frozen in place, watching and listening to the mage they had come to call their leader. He felt some pain in his heart, knowing what the outcome of this could possibly mean if his sister went too far...

Her laughter finally trickled away, her hands falling from her face as she grinned up into the sky. "Kirkwall, dear Kirkwall, so adamant in your attempts to damn yourself." Her voice was sing-song, as if she were entertaining a child. "Bathed in red, dark red, bright red, oozing red, just as it should be."

Carver couldn't stop himself from running over to his elder sister, gathering her in his arms. Her tone of voice, her demeanor, it all frightened him, the possibility of possession frightened him, but she was still his sister. The sister he had been jealous of growing up, the sister he had blamed for his twin's death, the sister he had slowly come to love as he had matured into his own way of life. She had protected him for so long, now maybe he could return some of the favor.

Her eyes found his own, and Carver frowned at the detachment he saw in the usually bright blue irises. "Little brother. Little brother, let's play. We may come home drenched in red, but Mother won't be mad. She's just as red as we will be!"

"Sister, snap out of it!" Carver snapped, fear making his voice sharper than he'd meant for it to be.

Marian simply grinned mischeviously at him before twisting out of his embrace, pulling her staff from her back and blasting a nearby Templar with lightning. His screams as he sizzled in his armor seemed to entertain his sister as she giggled with what was almost child-ish delight.

"Fight back, you fools!" Meredith screamed at her templars, before glaring at Orsino and Anders. "This is not the end of this, mages." With that she turned and was headed towards the docks.

Carver had no time to think of his sister as his fellow Templars drew their swords. Did they really expect him to turn on his sister? It seemed a few did, ignoring him for the threat of his sister's friends. He found he had almost no sympathy for the templars he cut down, even though he knew them, trained with them. Is this how his sister felt protecting her loved ones?

His sister's laughter rebounded off the walls of Lowtown, childish and frightening. She was taking pleasure in the anarchy, in the madness, reveling in the killing.

"Paint the walls, paint the ground red. A matching color to match the sky. Everything must match, Mother and Bethany and Father would be so disappointed if it didn't." Carver heard her murmer to herself almost dreamily. Oh Maker, where had his sister gone?

All the templars lay dead or dying, and Marian found her grin would not slip from her face, even when she was once again approached by her worried brother. Oh, silly, silly Carver. No need to worry, I'm alright. Practicing my painting skills, who knew painting and killing could be wonderfully mixed?

"Sister...?"

"Yes, little brother? What shall we do next? The templars are dead, but there are others to kill. Must protect the ones who did no wrong, don't we?"

Carver frowned, his eyes turning a little misty.

"No need to cry, little brother. Big sister's just fine. Big sister's here, unlike Mother or Father or Bethany. Big sister won't be soaked in red, won't lay down as these templars did."

"Marian!"

Hawke turned her gaze to her lover, and she smiled brightly as he ran up to her. "Fenris, my Fenris, why do you look so worried?"

"Marian, I swear that damned apostate will pay! He won't get far! I'll-!"

"Won't lay a finger on his hairy, big-headed, cat-loving, Chantry-'splodin' self." Marian cut through Fenris' tirade, a dangerous edge under her childish tone. Fenris immediately went silent, staring at the woman he loved helplessly.

Instead, Hawke turned to the apostate mage who had taken a seat on a nearby crate.

"Justice is served, Justice is stained, Justice is pleased." Hawke murmered as she leaned on Anders' shoulders. "Blowing up the helpless by-standers, mage and templar and priestess alike, Elthina's head probably in Hightown, her torso in the Gallows, her robes with the Maker. Is Justice happy? Happy Justice, yes, of course. But what of the cat-loving mage? What of the mage who left out warm milk for the kitty, kitty-cats?"

Anders couldn't stand it anymore, pulled himself away from Hawke and staring at her warily. Her grin would not fall from her lips.

"I'm sorry, Hawke, alright? I didn't... I didn't know it would do... do this to you..."

"Do what? I'm perfectly fine, as you see! Unlike Elthina, she must be by her Maker's side. Hopefully whole, as that would be no way to live eternity! Imagine being limbless, headless, why, she'd be a laughingstock! But oh, she wouldn't be the only one! There're probably grandmothers and grandfathers and fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers and children of all ages! Child murderer that you are, you started the revolution! So let us continue it lest I paint you red!"

Anders recoiled, taking a defensive posture, before he thought better of it, nodding silently. Hawke, satiated for the moment, turned on her heel and strode through the muck and gore heedless of where her feet fell. She began humming a little tune as she went, kicking out at a templar's decapitated head as if it were a ball, grinning when it thudded against the Lowtown wall.

His friends, perhaps former friends now, watched her go before turning to stare at him, glares, questions, poker faces, the works. Oh Maker, what had he done...

_A/N: If you'd like to see more of this Marian Hawke, let me know in a review and I'll work either on continuing this chapter or starting a new chapter. You can always request a scene that you'd like written, though it doesn't necessarily HAVE to be this Hawke. If you'd like a Hawke with a different LI, class or such, just let me know that as well._


	2. The Last Straw Part 2

_A/N: I received requests to continue, so here's a continuation of the Marian Hawke from the first chapter. I hope it's up to standards. I hope I don't have to warn my readers there will be __**SPOILERS **__in this chapter. I was listening to music while writing the latter part between Fenris and Marian. I would suggest listening to this wonderful piece while reading to get the full experience like I had while writing, and would also recommend listening to the rest of this amazing man's works. Much of what I write is written while listening to his songs. Search "Romantic Music - Your Lullaby" on Youtube by Adrian von Ziegler._

_I also apologize for the short length of this chapter. It felt right to end where I did._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or any characters mentioned within. Bioware and EA are the copyrighted owners.**

The Last Straw

Part 2

They had run as soon as Meredith turned into a human-sized version of the idol. Let the remaining Templars - let Kirkwall - deal with the damned thing. The rag-tag group ran until they could run no more, trekking some ways up the Vimmark Mountains before they made camp for the night. No one knew what to do next. They were no longer welcome in Kirkwall even if they wanted to go back. News would spread like wildfire of the Circle rising up against the Chantry and Templars. It was a sure bet the rest of the Circles would rebel as soon as they caught a whisper of the events in Kirkwall.

"Some fine pickle we got ourselves into..." Varric muttered to himself, his chin resting on his hand as he stared into the fire placed in the middle of the camp.

"A pickle sounds nice... Really any food sounds nice right about now."

Varric shook his head. "Daisy, don't think about your rumbling stomach, and you won't be as hungry."

"But how can I ignore it when it keeps growling?"

Aveline and Fenris watched the dwarf and elf quietly. "At least something hasn't changed." Aveline muttered. Fenris knew it wasn't directed at any certain person, yet her words had his gaze turning towards the Hawke siblings.

Marian claimed a spot as soon as they decided to rest and had yet to move, even with Carver's begging to come join her friends. The apostate sat clear across the camp, just barely inside it's perimeter. A good thing for him Fenris was more worried about Hawke (and what Hawke could possibly do to anyone who touched him) to deal with him. It would be a good day when he could hold the sniveling mage's still-beating heart in his hand.

The clanking of armor followed Carver as he walked away from his sister, approaching Fenris and Aveline. He stood quietly beside the elf, watching the others of the group before speaking.

"Nothing I do or say is of consequence. What Anders did broke her mind. I still see my sister in her, but she's over-shadowed by this new pscyhe." Carver looked to Fenris. "Maybe you can do more for her than I can. I'm just her snot-nosed little brother, while you're the person she loves for some reason."

The smile given to Fenris was meant to soften his words. Coming from Carver, that was something close to a compliment and a plea for help. Fenris gave no indication of agreeing, instead turning and striding towards Marian. His confident steps became hesitant the closer he came to her.

At the sound of his footsteps, she smiled at his approach. It was the smile that enticed him, that brought him back, that kept him from running again.

"Why look so glum, Fenris? We're perfectly healthy, happy, safe and sound! Not torn or hacked to pieces, not staining the ground red, not red ourselves though our hands definitely are."

Fenris frowned, sitting beside Marian silently. "Won't you let me rip out that mage's heart?"

Marian shook her head. "Nope, you'll do nothing of the sort! He has to live with the stains on his hands and in his mind until the Maker decides he wants him to be torn to pieces as Elthina was. Only then is he allowed to die."

It was so childish, yet so unnerving how Marian spoke and acted. It was only her word that kept that mage alive. Even in the broken fragments of her mind, she wanted Anders punished more than just giving him an easy death. Fenris nodded, unsure of what else he could do.

The pitying looks he felt on his back, the whispered remarks his exceptional hearing picked up, the past twenty-four hours in general... All of it made his skin itch - it made him want to find a group of enemies and forcefully tear their organs from their still living bodies and force them to feel the pain he was feeling.

"Will you come back, Marian?"

Marian looked him over curiously. "Silly Fenris, I'm still here. Was your eyesight hurt when the sky was painted with blood? I won't be leaving, ever. You can't leave me either. Not again. I'd cry."

Had she been broken back to childhood, or was she still an adult in a broken mind? It was difficult to tell at times, as she fluctuated between being a child and simply being insane.

The two sat in a silence only broken by the crackling of the fire and the noises their friends made. Despite everything that happened to them, the sun still set as it always had. Fenris' eyes followed its descent through the sky, ultimately disappearing behind the distant crags of the Vimmark Mountains. What was it about a change of scenery that created the illusion of something new?

The elf tensed as something pressed into his shoulder. He relaxed as he noticed Hawke had simply fallen asleep. It had been a tiring day for all of them. He could only imagine what was going on in her mind. Fenris moved his arm from under her shoulder, holding her steady as he moved where he could sit behind her with her body snug between his legs. He guided her back into him, wrapping his arms around her so he could tell himself she was still alive and was okay.

Watching her sleep and listening to her steady breathing was enough to make him believe she was her normal self.

Almost.

He ducked his head, hiding his face in her hair and shoulder. His grip on her tightened as if she would disappear if he let her go. Fenris had made the mistake of leaving her those few years ago. It was difficult to admit he was wrong and apologize, but when she had welcomed him back into her arms, he'd sworn to himself nothing would come between them again.

The woman turned in her sleep, snuggling closer to his chest where his heart beat. Fenris found his throat tighten. In a whisper, Fenris muttered, "Festis bei umo canavarum."

~x~x~x~x~


End file.
